


the truth is out and the lies are old

by Rebldomakr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magical Creature Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Golden Trio Friendship - Freeform, Harry has anger problems, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M, No beta we die like Cedric Diggory, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: On the night before his fifteenth birthday, Harry was considering pretending to have Dragon Pox. If only he could figure out a way to fake the symptoms and then also make sure that it was seen how ill he was – then maybe he could go to his friends, to Sirius, someplace other than the Dursley’s. He didn’t though. He went up the steps to the first floor and walked into the second bedroom – his room, sort of – just in time for his uncle to scream up the stairs at him, “No shower, boy!”It had been a long day of nothing for the Boy-Who-Lived, but it, at least, wouldn't be nothing for much longer.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	1. Five

Harry Potter – the famous Boy-Who-Lived – was growing out of his skin with impatience and desperation to be anywhere but Privet Drive. Every day was absolutely the same, filled with ignorance and nothing. Whoever said that ignorance was bliss, was a moron and Harry hoped they died a very, very painful death. In fact, as he neared his fifteenth birthday, he hopes the person who came up with that phrase was given a Dementor’s Kiss for their absolute stupidity for such a statement because ignorance wasn’t bliss. Ignorance was Hell.

The summer of 1995 was a very hot one. There was a drought going on and while the suburban homes that neatly rowed themselves around the neighborhood pretended otherwise, maintaining their green lawns and backyard gardens and washing their cars, it was still very, very hot. The Carpenter’s gardener worked without a shirt on and Petunia liked to pretend she wasn’t looking, though she somehow always ended up in the front card tending to the bushes whenever he was out mowing or watering the Carpenter’s rose bushes. And the skies were clear and perfectly blue, no clouds in sight, and the sun blasted down. Even when Harry found a shadow and sat on the cooler ground, he was still overcome with heat. Most days when he walked back into 4 Privet Drive, he was leaning well into filthy. Sweaty and dirty, skin tanning but also burning because he hadn’t ever truly gotten used to the sun after a childhood of being squirreled away into the cupboard. Petunia refused to hand over any of her precious sunscreen so Harry just dealt with it.

His days were simple enough.

In the morning, he ate the single piece of fruit that Petunia would give him. Normally an apple, sometimes a grapefruit, occasionally even a bowl of half-crushed and probably bad raspberries. He would eat around the mold, in that case. He liked to eat it in the sunlight, before the day got too hot. He pretended he was somewhere tropical and nice, eating fresh fruit brought to him by a happy servant, until Dudley was shoving into him and telling him to get out of the way, the freak he was just for existing.

Things were better than when he was ten, but worse in many other ways. For example, Harry hadn’t heard anything from his friends. After breakfast, he’d try to listen in on the muggle news because, as always, the copy of the Daily Prophet he got in the morning never gave him anything substantial. The Wizarding World spoke nothing of the Dark Lord Voldemort, though there was an awful lot denials of his return and, also, advertisements for concerts and whatnot like everything was perfectly, absolutely normal.

On hotter days, trying to hear in on a muggle talk-show host discuss the royal family to the tune of Petunia huffing and turning up her nose, Harry wondered if maybe he somehow hallucinated. It was a dumb thing to do, but sometimes it felt like it. It wasn’t as though his friends’ letters were helpful – just as useful as the Daily Prophet and muggle tabloids. He was going to combust under the sun, but not because of the heat. He was just getting more and more frustrated at not knowing anything of what was happening.

After breakfast, Harry preoccupied himself with the chores Petunia might give him. She didn’t trust him with much. He pulled weeds in her garden, watered the grass, dusted shelves, and other things that even he couldn’t possibly mess up. He would snatch and eat some of the candy he had received so far from his friends, trying to savor every bit like precious fuel since the Dursley’s gave so little. He got his water mostly from the faucet outside, or straight from the hose while he watered the grass.

Lunch was whatever Dudley didn’t eat, so maybe a quarter of a sandwich or just a wilting salad. He would, again, doddle around and try to find something to do. Normally just sitting somewhere and wishing for the day to just end already, while the peak heat of the day struck and he tried to keep cool. His most recent spot was a cool place right behind the bushes and underneath a window, which Petunia almost always had open and he could listen to the news whenever she had it on which was, thankfully, often. Sometimes he’d walk over to the park and other times he would just walk around the neighborhood.

Things were fine. He was fine. He was doing—

Not great.

On the night before his fifteenth birthday, Harry was considering pretending to have the Dragon Pox. If only he could figure out a way to fake the symptoms and then also make sure that it was seen how ill he was – then maybe he could go to his friends, to Sirius, someplace other than the Dursley’s. He didn’t though. He went up the steps to the first floor and walked into the second bedroom – his room, sort of – just in time for his uncle to scream up the stairs at him, “No shower, boy!”

It had been a long day of nothing for the Boy-Who-Lived.

Filthy, Harry closed the door and knew, soon, his uncle or aunt would lock him in for the night. He undressed, leaving himself only in his boxers, then crawled into bed. There was no point in trying to stay awake. Sleep was the one period where he didn’t need to think about being trapped at the Dursley’s. Instead, he thought about Cedric dying and Voldemort and the risk of death looming over him when Voldemort decided to finally come after him. He was very aware, while asleep, how weak he was and how easy it would be for the Dark Lord to kill him.

Harry crawled into bed. On top of the thin blanket, he stared at the ceiling until he built up the guts to close his eyes. He breathed in and out, slow, until he started to drift – filled with the hope of no Cedric and no Dark Lord. Just, a dream. Or, better yet, no dream at all.

Water made out of black silk and tar rolled underneath him, wrapping around him and suspending him through space and time. He felt like he was still closing his eyes – and everything was right in the universe, nothing was wrong. The flimsy mattress he slept on, the one that creaked underneath him and was dented from Dudley’s use when it had belonged to his cousin when still a toddler, transformed into the most comfortable thing he had ever experienced in his entire life. The perfect start of any good sleep.

Then, his eyes twitched – and they opened.

No longer in his room, not even in 4 Privet Drive, Harry stood on a wooden dock stretched out from a story-story building. Its exterior was stretched and splotched in soot like blasts of fire had struck it, the roof was falling apart, and the shingles were twisted and falling off. It sat on the wooden dock as Harry did because beneath them both was a massive lake. The water was dark, but lit by lanterns that hung off of the poles that stretched out from within. There were a few boats, bobbing in the water, with no one in them. One was overturned and, on stop, sat a completely black bird with wings that hung limp over the sides of the boat.

Curiously in control of himself for a dream, Harry wandered up to the front door and placed his hand onto the doorknob. It was a very warm brass, like it was constantly being touched and warmed by someone’s hand. But as he went to turn it, to open the door, someone appeared behind him and said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,”

He jumped and turned around, coming face to face with a beast. It was made out of rippling, moving smoke, just solid enough to fill out tarnished, golden armor filled with scratches and stretched in dried, dark brown streaks. In its left hand, it held onto a wooden staff that was topped with a massive black rock that glinted from the distant lantern light.

“Suppose you could, but it wouldn’t be fun for you,” It continued on. “This is where my brethren and I often meet. Humans, not even demons, should wander inside if they still have a body to return to,”

“What?” Harry frowned. This was a really weird dream, he thought.

The beast laughed. “This is no dream, Harry Potter,” It said. “I am your patron – I am Abbadon,”

Abbadon. The name sounded strangely familiar, but simultaneously, not at all in the closest. Harry eyed the beast, trying to find some actual shape to its form that actually seemed solid. He couldn’t.

“I summoned you here so that I could give you, your True Name. It’s time. I’ve been waiting—I’m a lucky sort, you know. Two demons of my own! The Fates are a tricky sort, of course, who knows what they’re planning. They normally have humanity’s best interests in mind, so I’ll trust them even if they’re awfully spooky. You know, they always cheat in cards?” The beast laughed again. It wasn’t a terrible sound.

Harry opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

“Before you think it, yes, this is real,” Abbadon said. “Poor boy, probably filled with questions. Don’t worry about trying to think and talk. You have no body here, there’s no mind to hold private thought.” It smiled, flashing a swirling vortex behind black lips. “As I said, I summoned you here for your True Name!”

“True Name?” Harry questioned. “Is this- Am I cursed? Have I gone mad?”

“No, no,” Abbadon said, waving its hands dismissively. “Welcome to the borderlands. This place is a very special realm, in that it exists as a boundary between all the other realms. Behind that door is a realm, dive into the water and you’ll sink down to the Abyss. Take a boat and you could float off to Purgatory, to Earth, to anywhere, really, this water runs pretty much everywhere. Except for Hell!”

Harry swallowed. “Why are you giving me a True Name?” He didn’t even know what it was, but at least he could try to figure out what the beast was going to give him one.

“All human demons have a True Name. It’ll be your greatest weakness in your life and how you’ll reach beyond death after you’ve lived,” Abbadon explained. “You receive it from your patron, which I am, as I said,”

“Right…” Harry rubbed his hand up his arm, brushing his hand over his elbow. He couldn’t feel anything – nothing at all – though he knew he was touching his skin. “I’m a demon. Merlin- I never…Why am I demon?”

“Doesn’t matter why!” It chuckled out. “Don’t worry, son. Humans come up with silly stories about demons, but we aren’t evil, we are not for humanity’s destruction. We, the Demons of Hell, are protectors of mankind. While it’s up to you what kind of demon you’ll be, you were chosen by the Fates at birth for a purpose. There’s a lot to explain, but most of it will be best if you answer all your questions on your own,”

“If all of this is real, and not just some crazy dream, why am I getting a True Name now? Why not earlier?” Harry pushed for answers, still, sick of not knowing anything. Incredibly, incredibly sick of it. The least this beast could do was answer a couple questions.

“Human demons – or the Demons of Earth, as they’re called by my kind – don’t receive their True Name until their fifteenth birthday. This is when you’ll start to mature. Over the next seven years, you’ll develop your powers, find your True Form, and find your purpose in life.” Abbadon slammed his staff onto the wooden dock. “Now, as for your name…Are you ready, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Harry was starting to feel even sicker, now.

“No. Now listen closely…Your True Name is Corripio Ergo Cortes. I chose Latin, for you, since so much of the magic you already know is based in it. You’re welcome.” Abbadon turned itself around and started to walk to the edge of the dock, stopping just before it fell off. It stretched its hand out and a boat started to drift towards him. “Don’t worry about not knowing things. The Fates will take care of you, no demon dies before the discover their purpose. And, well, Baphomet has a weak spot for the dumb ones,”

“Baphomet?” Harry asked. “Is that another demon?”

“The Chief Demon, actually, beside Leviathan. He has no demons of his own, but he considers all of ours, his. Not that I blame him – we’re basically his,” Abbadon said. “Now, Harry, some basic information you need to know as one of mine…”

Harry – who was wishing he could at least write down his True Name – listened closely. He was beginning to be very sure that all of this wasn’t just a made-up dream.

“My demons are warriors, because I am a warrior. I am the destroyer and the creator, the leader of the Abyss and the armies within. I helped humans wage their wars and they paid tribute to me. That time has passed, but I still answer to my duties here. And you, as mine, will be a warrior. You’ll always be connected to the Abyss, to war, and to destruction, but you will also always be connected to creation. You mustn’t ever forget all the parts to yourself, or you’ll be overcome by yourself. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “I understand,” Sort of.

“There is another demon on your map that’s of me. He’ll be able to guide you, if you accept it. There are other demons, but very few. I believe…There’s only four of you in total, yes, that’s right.” Abbadon nodded. The boat finally arrived at the dock.

“Can’t you tell me who he is?” Harry asked uneasily.

“It’ll be better for you to find him on your own, or he’ll find you.” Abbadon jumped into the boat, taking a seat on the single bench inside of it and suddenly seeming much smaller. “Now, back you go!” He waved his hand—

And with a blink, Harry was sitting up in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey heyyy!! this story's going to be a little short? But it'll be around 10-15k words. If it's well liked enough, I'll go ahead and continue with it! But, funnily enough, I'm writing this out as an exercise so that I can finish ANOTHER Harry Potter story!! Fun shit. 
> 
> If it's continued, I'll just change the chapter length for this fic and continue updating here. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/rebinghostface/)


	2. four

By midnight, Remus was half-asleep. It was dark and he was tired, but he was trying to stay awake and do an actual good job at this. He, a werewolf, was barely trusted enough to even be given a watch duty. Tonks had just barely stopped giving him worried side-glances whenever he spoke too loud during a meeting. And Sirius was just finally beginning to realize that all his dumb werewolf jokes weren’t very funny to most people.

As he was sliding down the front of a mid-aged tree, trying to use it as a way to balance himself out, the front door of 4 Privet Drive banged open. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

He was covered in an old invisibility cloak and multiple warding charms – Silencing Ward, Look-Away Charm, Fuzzy Head Ward – so it wasn’t as though he was scared someone was going to see him. Of course, another wizard who had some experience post-Hogwarts would be able to detect him if they knew they were looking for someone, but no muggle would ever come close even if they knew he was somewhere around.

Still, the noise was jarring and he quickly became concerned. He was barely trusted enough to be sent out and hold watch over the Dursley house. He was two weeks away from another full moon and he had fresh doses of Wolfsbane Potion supplied to him, always, as well as Sirius present to constantly remind him to swallow down every painful gulp. He didn’t intend to mess up so early on – and he didn’t intend on Harry to be hurt.

Remus didn’t know the boy – the Boy Who Lived – better than the average person currently staying at 12 Grimmauld Place. He had, mostly, been the boy’s teacher and mentor. However, Harry was important to him. The last remaining piece to his old friend, James, and also the largest anchor his only remaining close friend, Sirius, had to his sanity. If Harry died…Sirius would fall apart and, then, probably so would Remus. His mental recovery these past couple of years had been based in the discovery of Sirius’ innocence and Sirius’ survival.

As he watched; It wasn’t a muggle who stormed out of the house. It was Harry.

Dressed in worn-thin pants and an incredibly large t-shirt, Harry made a sharp turn and just starting walking. He had a backpack slung over his shoulders, the front pocket hanging open due to a broken zipper. In his right hand, he held his wand and in his left hand, he held onto a kitchen knife.

Right.

Remus followed the boy for a short while, maybe about ten minutes, before he finally determined that Harry wasn’t hexed or enchanted. Harry was, judging by his red, watery eyes, and flushed cheeks, just incredibly emotional. And he had no idea what to do.

The Order had nothing on what to do if Harry got **emotional**. He didn’t want to think about what they would do if they discovered the young wizard had just left the muggle’s house and started walking to…Somewhere. They didn’t trust him, and he wasn’t entirely sure how much he trusted all of them, either, except—

Except, Sirius.

He swallowed. Then, he placed a quick tracking charm onto Harry, then fell back enough so he could apparate without being heard.

For the past month. Dumbledore has been very strict with all of them. There was to be zero interaction between the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter. He didn’t explain why, but he didn’t need to. He was, after all, Albus Dumbledore. All the members, old and new, trusted him and were loyal to him. Except for Sirius – always an exception – who was practically waiting on the edge of his seat every meeting for the permission to off and tell Harry everything. He had been adamant from the start that they give Harry all the information, to treat him more like an adult even if he wasn’t one.

Remus, privately, believed the same.

Harry wasn’t like the other children, who all got to stay at 12 Grimmauld Place while he was separated from the wizarding world. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. He was the Dark Lord’s most direct threat and the Dark Lord’s most desired victim. He should’ve been at the Order’s headquarters at the beginning of the summer, being taught, being trained, anything other than being left at his muggle relatives’ home. It wasn’t as though any of them were under any illusions that the muggles were kind or even moderately good to the boy, but they couldn’t do anything. They were supposed to protect him, but ignore anything and everything the Dursley’s did.

Dumbledore’s orders.

At 12 Grimmauld Place, Remus carefully sneaked in through the front door. He was relieved to find Sirius in the dining room, sitting at the table closest to the dresser.

Sirius had a handful of books around him, stacked up onto each other and laying open, while he scratched down what he needed to into an enchanted journal. He was trying to learn the Death Eaters’ old code from the last war, which should help during this one. It was the only mission he could do, trapped at this townhouse. Luckily for him, the code was certainly based in Latin and he was made fluent when he was a child by his parents.

“Sirius!” Remus hissed, as quiet as he could manage. “I need you to come with me. I’ll explain on the way,”

Sirius looked up, blinked, then grinned. He was okay with anything if it got him out of his old childhood home. He quickly shoved everything into one clean pile and followed after Remus. Before he stepped out of the townhouse, he transformed into his animagus form.

As they walked to the safe enough distance from 12 Grimmauld Place to apparate, Remus explained down to his old friend; “Harry left the house and he’s just been walking. I followed him, for a little while, made sure he wasn’t cursed or enchanted or anything else. But, Sirius, I think something happened. He has the same face you had when you ran away from your parents at the platform every year, until you ran away of course, but…Understand?”

He got a bark in reply. He took it as a yes.

Soon, then, he grabbed onto Sirius’ tail and closed his eyes. After sensing for the tracker he placed onto Harry, he apparated them back.

They landed on the sidewalk, about six feet in front of Harry.

The young wizard froze as soon as he saw them ahead of him. His face was already much more red and he was drenched in sweat. Sirius began to bark and ran for him, tackling Harry onto the ground and sniffing at the boy’s neck before slathering Harry’s face with messy licks.

Harry broke – laughing, as his arms wrapped around Sirius. He hugged the animagus tightly. It only took, though, about a handful of heartbeats before his laughs transformed into heavy sobs. He buried his face into Sirius’ hairy neck and cried, his body shaking and moving with every sound.

Remus got closer and crouched down. “Come, I see a shed over there – we can go inside and talk safely,”

He helped the boy stand.

Once they had gotten into the muggle’s backyard and into the muggle’s shed – such a flimsy lock for something so easily accessed – Remus cast a series of charms as Sirius transformed back into his human shape.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Sirius asked, immediately.

Harry looked at him, then to Remus. “I- fuck.” He started to laugh, again, this time it sounded much more broken. He collapsed to the dirty floor and brought his knees to his chest, leaning against the wall. “It’s a lot. I don’t- I don’t even know if it was real. Or a nightmare. Or Voldemort just…Fucking with me? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. No one’s told me anything and I’ve just been so lost. I feel lost. No matter how much news I read or listen to, I don’t know anything. My friends, and you, no one will tell me anything. And then, this dream…?” He trailed off, shaking his head.

Sirius and Remus both went down, sitting on the floor on either side of the Boy-Who-Lived. It wasn't as though the pureblood wizard had any qualms about telling Harry anything, but Remus had convinced him to listen to their orders. He was quickly beginning to regret that, now, watching Harry seem so- destroyed. 

“Dumbledore’s ordered us not to tell you anything,” Sirius said. “But, we will, if you tell us what’s going on. Tell us about this dream? What did you see?”

“I met someone.” Harry licked his lips, eyes stuck now on his own hands. He started to fidget, fingers dragging at each other and pinching at each other’s skin. “It’s name was Abbadon,” Sirius took in a sharp breath, but the young wizard continued on without noticing. “It told me – that I’m a demon. I’m, of it, and it’s…A demon of the Abyss? It told me I’m a warrior and I’m a demon and I don’t even know what that means. Do demons even exist?”

Remus hadn’t ever heard of demons before. A hallucination, he started to think, that You-Know-Who had sent his dreaded nemesis? Not that Harry was any real threat, right now, but maybe the Dark Lord was trying to drive him insane? Or just make Harry **feel** insane?

He started to reply, but Sirius cut him off.

“Yes.” Sirius grabbed Harry’s hands, pulling them apart from each other, and gripping them tightly in his own. “My great Aunt Cassieopeia, my mother’s aunt anyways. She was a demon and awfully close to my mother. I met her a lot when I was a kid. She always hoped one of us, my brother or me, would be a demon like her. Course, neither of us were. I don’t, I don’t know a lot, really. Just stories she told us about the Demons of Hell,”

Remus blinked in surprise. Demons were real? He hadn’t ever read anything of them before, not even a mention in any of the books he’s read, and he had devoted himself to studying magical creatures like himself.

“So, it’s real? I’m a demon?” Harry questioned. “Merlin. That sounds terrible. I’m a demon. Aren’t demons supposed to be evil?”

“No, not…Not always,” Sirius said. He glanced at Remus. “It’s supposed to be like being a Metamorphmagus, but-“

“It’s like being a werewolf,” Remus finished, able to guess where his old friend was going. “It doesn’t need to be bad, Harry. It’s what you make of yourself,”

Harry shakily nodded, still drawn into himself and quiet. It seemed…so unlike the boy who was, normally, much more animated. “I don’t even know what a Metamorphmagus is,”

“That’s not too big of a deal. Just a witch or wizard that can change how they look on will, without needing any spells,” Sirius said. “I- no, we, Remus and I, we promise we’re not going to keep anything else from you,”

“Please tell me what’s been going on,” Harry begged. “I don’t know anything. I just want to know **something** ,”

So, they told him. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t broken any other orders tonight.

They described to him the Order of the Phoenix, where they were staying and why. Then, they told him about Dumbledore’s orders. It made Harry laugh and ask, “You’re breaking a rule, just talking to me right now?”

“Basically, yes,” Remus admitted. “I just- Harry, I saw you run out of your muggle family’s house, and the last time I ever saw anyone with that face was the last summer Sirius was dropped off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters by his parents. I didn’t want to involve the Order,”

“It’s a good thing, too, Harry. You can’t tell anyone that you’re a demon,” Sirius determined.

“What?” Harry shook his head. “No. I want to tell Ron and Hermione-“

“Harry,” Sirius cut him off, stern. “Demons aren’t well-accepted. People who do know of them normally think that they’re just Dark witches and wizards, usually. I know Dumbledore, but I don’t know what he’ll do with that information. Demons are Dark magical creatures, like werewolves, and Remus can tell you how hard it is for him,”

“People don’t trust me a lot, just because of it,” Remus agreed. “We know Ron and Hermione are your friends, but can you trust them not to tell anyone?”

“Dumbledore trusted you,” Harry tried. 

The poor boy didn't know. How would he? It hurt too much for Remus to think about it much and he doubted Sirius wanted to, either. 

“Harry,” Remus pleaded. “There’s a belief that all Dark creatures are drawn to the Dark Lord. If anyone else were to find out, they’ll think-“

“That I’ll go off and join the Dark Lord?” Harry huffed out. “That’s stupid!”

“Or…Well, there’s another thing we haven’t really told you yet,” Remus admitted. “The Ministry has been saying a lot to discredit you and Dumbledore. If anyone finds out, especially the Ministry or Merlin forbid the Daily Prophet…”

“They’ll probably try to say Dumbledore’s the next Dark Lord,” Sirius said.

Harry sniffled. “My friends, they’ve just been at 12 Grimmauld Place? All summer?”

“Not the whole summer, but yes.” Remus nodded.

“Fine. I won’t tell them. But I want to go there.”

“Not tonight,” Sirius immediately said. “We’ll figure out something, but there’ll be suspicions if we just show up with you. I’m not even supposed to be leaving the headquarters on Dumbledore’s order,”

“What about…Me being a demon? I still don’t know anything about that,” Harry was starting to flatten again.

“I’ll be doing plenty of research. Cassieopeia died years back and I know all of her things were left to my mother. I bet I can find them and somewhere I’ll get something to help you,” Sirius promised. “If that fails, I know my family’s got a library somewhere- there’ll be information I can find and I’ll give it straight to you,”

“Can you promise us, that you won’t tell anyone that you’re a demon or what we’ve told you tonight?” Remus asked.

Harry nodded. “I promise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to change the posting pattern with this chapter - I'll be updating every Sunday/Monday! The third chapter is already done, I just gotta run through and edit it. It's just over 4500 words and it only has about a quarter of the stuff that I wanted to happen in it! Yikes!
> 
> If you want more frequent updates on how this is going or how maybe future stories might be going, check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/rebinghostface/)
> 
> I'm trying really hard to be more active on there/post more updates on stuff there. 
> 
> Anyways!! I'm really happy about the response I've gotten so far about this fic. If it continues to the sixth chapter and nothing terrible happens to me, I'll definitely be turning this into a full-blown fic!


	3. Three

_Be careful Harry  
The Order’s heard news that You Know Who might be on the move to test you.   
We don’t know what that means. Mundungus Fletcher is on duty for two days.  
Don’t trust him. _

_We’ve found a book, but Sirius needs to make sure it isn’t cursed before we send it.  
He thinks he’s found the key to one HER old vaults in Gringotts. It might help. _

_Much love,  
Remus & Sirius_

Harry folded the parchment into two, then ripped it in half. He placed the pieces on top of each other, then tore them again. He repeated the motions until all he had were shards of parchment, which he then stuffed into his pocket. It was a simple measure that his father’s old friends had instructed him to do the first time they’d sent him a letter, after his failed attempt to be a runaway. There couldn’t be any easily found proof of their communications, since both Sirius and Remus were breaking orders from Dumbledore to keep him updated.

The young wizard left the second bedroom and went downstairs to, hopefully, score something to eat that wasn’t just candy his friends had sent him. He thought he could smell bacon and he was sure that if he moved quick enough he could grab a couple pieces, at least.

He walked into the dining room as Petunia was placing a plate down in front of Dudley. The plate was overloaded with food. Harry wondered whatever happened to Dudley’s diet, when the piggish boy delved into the food to the fond laughter of his parents.

Everything was happy and good for the Dursley’s, until they realized Harry’s presence was near.

“Boy,” Petunia sneered at him. “You can have the leftovers in the kitchen. Don’t be a bother today!”

Harry nodded. He went straight into the kitchen before Dudley could register Petunia’s sentence and start demanding that he get first dibs on what remained. Not that the leftovers were anything special – a handful of blueberries, half of which had been left out for obviously too long with splashes of green from the bacon Petunia had cooked somehow getting onto them – but it was better than nothing. He scarfed down the berries then grabbed a single remaining pancake and sausage link.

He wrapped the pancake around the sausage and ate it like a sandwich. After, he drank from the faucet, filling the rest of his stomach with water until Petunia walked into the kitchen. She shouted at him, face drawn tight, and swatted at him with her dishtowel.

“See you!” Harry chirped, dodging another hit, as he dipped out of the kitchen and through the dining room to head outside.

The Boy-Who-Lived had a long day of nothing at all, as usual. But, ever since his birthday, he had begun to feel a lot more content with doing nothing.

Sirius and Remus had been sending him letters every morning to update him, the best they could, on what was happening with the Order and at their headquarters. He understood, now, that they had to maintain a level of secrecy just in case the letters were intercepted. Orders included not sending out many owls from the headquarters, because they were trying to keep it hidden, as well as not placing any vital information onto parchment. Remus would send the letters out when he’d go on his morning walk and they just ignored the second one, as much as safely possible, to give Harry more to go off on.

He didn’t know much longer he’d be stuck at Dursley’s, but at least he could bear it a bit longer now. The letters made him feel a lot less alone. He was able to reassure himself that they’d get him to headquarters as soon as they possibly could.

After exiting the Dursley house, Harry stopped about three feet from the front door. He turned his nose upward and breathed in, deep and slow. He held it in his chest, counted to five, then slowly breathed it out through his mouth. It was something Remus had instructed him to do, to start learning to keep a level head, in one of the letters.

“ _Anger is always a problem when it comes to anything Dark. Whether we like it or not, we have to learn to deal with it_.”

Though he didn’t completely understand, he trusted Remus to listen. After all, Remus never seemed even remotely angry to him. Maybe that was the breathing exercises, but he doubted it. They didn’t help that much.

He walked around the neighborhood, enjoying the morning sun before it got too hot to want to do anything. The days were especially long mid-summer. They were beginning to grow shower, minute by minute, and Harry looked forward to autumn-time. It would mean his return to school, after all.

As he walked, Harry searched the bins for recent newspapers. The Daily Prophet told him plenty enough of what was happening in the wizarding world – Dumbledore was getting slammed repeatedly for trying to convince everyone that the Dark Lord had returned – but he still wanted to know what was happening in the muggle world. Maybe something would clue him into what Voldemort was doing. He was a genocidal maniac, Harry thought it was reasonable to assume he’d be committing some sort of crime against muggles.

In the few newspapers he found, there wasn’t anything strange or unusual except for stains and spills.

With nothing on Voldemort, Harry turned himself to focusing on walking and his own thoughts.

He had a lot on his mind lately.

It wasn’t just Voldemort and the Order and Dumbledore being a prat to make him not be involved with anything, under some misguided attempt to keep him safe. It was demon thing, mostly.

Harry didn’t know what it meant to be a demon. Abbadon hadn’t told him very much and he didn’t know how to try to contact it – his patron – again. He was barely able to recall how it looked, even when he thought about it really hard. The demon had told him he needed to figure out the answers to his questions on his own because it would be better for him. He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t ever good at researching, that was always Hermione, but he couldn’t just write to her and beg for help. Remus and Sirius had told him, very explicitly, not to let anyone in on the know of him being a demon.

He kept waiting for **something** to happen. Some sort of great power that would manifest. Maybe he could use it to defeat Voldemort.

Abbadon had called itself the destroyer, the creator, and a warrior. Harry could only guess that it had something to do with Transfiguration, but he hadn’t been specially good at it at school. And the warrior bit, at least he could see himself as a warrior. A soldier in the fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort. Like a member of the Order, or both. But what he be after Voldemort, when there wasn’t any war? Did warriors even exist outside of war? Did wizards have actual armies for warriors to be part of, and did the Order count as that?

He wished he was more of a bookworm like Hermione. Maybe if he had taken different classes, he would have more information to go off of. Then again, demons hadn’t ever been covered or mentioned in Care of Magical Creatures or even Defense Against the Dark Arts. He didn’t really know and he didn’t want to see himself as a Dark creature, either, but it was obvious demons were seen as such. Just like Remus had said, and Sirius. People who did now what demons were saw them as monsters.

He didn’t know how Remus had dealt with being seen as a monster for so long. It was terrible and no even knew about Harry yet except for two people.

He thought back to Abbadon. It said it, and other demons, helped humans. Demons couldn’t be bad, then, if they had helped before. Humans just changed. Harry figured they stopped going to demons because they, for some reason, started to see them in a negative light. He knew enough about religion – muggle religion – that there wasn’t any good stories about demons. They were always the villain.

“It would be the muggles.” He muttered, kicking a rock off of the sidewalk. Though he knew it wasn’t only muggles, it couldn’t be, because Sirius and Remus had warned him away from telling anyone else that he was a demon, including his friends.

Everything that had happened made Harry wish he knew more of just about everything. He was beginning to think he would have to make himself into a Hermione mimic just so he could start trying to answer his own questions.

Eventually, Harry ended up at the park. He walked through the recently-opened gate. There was only a few people around, today, just mothers with their children. None of them paid him any mind. The neighborhood was close enough that they all knew he was Harry Potter and whatever the Dursley’s had told them, but simply put, Harry hadn’t ever been caught doing anything unseemly or law-breaking. They didn’t mind his presence, not in the slightest.

He sat down one of the two swings that hadn’t yet been broken by Dudley and his goons. By the slide, a mother was coaxing her son to come down. By the sandbox, a couple was helping their young son try to build a sandcastle.

Harry kicked himself off and closed his eyes. He tried to enjoy the feeling of flight. He imagined being on his broom as he swung higher and higher. He gripped the chain-links tighter in his hands and resisted the temptation to try to jump off every time he got high enough.

He stayed on the swing until the palms of his hands began to blister.

By the time he was done, though, the park was filled up more. Families eagerly playing and entertaining themselves and their children, as though it wasn’t desperately hot outside. He gave his swing up and a group of children rushed forward to begin battle over it.

As Harry walked down Magnolia Road, he tried to ignore the sun beating down cruelly onto him. He felt like his shirt was quickly drenched with sweat after only a few minutes of walking. By the time summer ended, he was going to hate the entire season. He had to pluck at the fabric of his shirt, trying to use it as a way to fan off the sweat beading up and running down his back. There was something so absolutely exhausting about the heat and the bright sun, it was hard to shake off.

Then, suddenly—goosebumps spread down his arms. The summer heat had vanished like it was sucked up with a vacuum, replaced with an increasingly desperately-freezing cold. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up and when he looked to the sky, it was darkening without the need of any clouds to roll in. The sun was, quickly, completely gone.

“Death Eaters?” He stepped backward, head twisting as he tried to look around the neighborhood which, moments ago, had been beating with the summer heat. He could see a muggle a couple dozen feet away, still washing their car like nothing had changed.

Harry searched for his wand, pulling it out of his waistband. He held it close to his side to try to hide it and rushed towards 4 Privet Drive. If got behind the wards, he would be safe, if everything he’d been told before was true. He could trust Dumbledore with what information he was actually given.

Before he could get there, however, he heard Dudley laughing with his friends. He glanced to his cousin, surrounded by his dumb goons, and then at the thirteen year old Peter Sweet – a grandson of one of their who was staying with her while his parents were both on business trips – on the ground crying, his glasses broken steps away from him. Any thought he had of trying to protect his cousin that had attempted to develop fell apart before they could fully form.

He nastily hoped the Death Eaters got to Dudley.

But as soon as he had turned around, he was face to face with a Dementor that loomed ominously over him.

“Uh,” He blinked. “Hello?”

It dipped down, spindly-spidery limbs reaching for him, but Harry managed to duck. His heart was pounding, but he didn’t feel any despair. He could remember how these creatures had effected him before. He had even fainted! But, right now, he felt nothing but the damning cold.

He held up his hand and contemplates casting a Patronus Charm – he couldn’t. There were muggles everywhere. Some looking at him strangely for brandishing a stick. Others were just beginning to notice the drop in temperature and, indeed, many of them seemed to start frowning like their summer day happiness was being dragged off of them.

“Leave,” He hissed to the Dementor. “Go!”

Its arms hung limply on either side of its body. It hunched over and Harry swore he could hear something coming from him. Strangled, gasping breathes, like it was trying to talk.

“Not…Not…Not you…”

“Are you-“ Harry couldn’t figure out what he wanted to ask, or how to word it. Was the Dementor here because he was a demon? Was it somehow being controlled by the Dark Lord? “Is this because- is this because I’m a demon?”

The Dementor, tall and cold, stood in front of him.

Harry swallowed the spit in his mouth. He didn’t know what to do.

Still gripping his wand tight in his hand, he started to move backwards. He walked until he could see hardly anyone near him, until he could suddenly hear his cousin and company.

“…squealed like a pig, didn’t he?”

“Night right hook, Big D!”

“Same time tomorrow?” Dudley’s voice went up.

“Round at my place, my parents are out.”

“See you then!” Dudley again.

Harry back was against a fence when he saw Dudley appear, walking and tunelessly humming. The Dementor moved away from the young wizard and went towards the muggle boy. Within seconds, Dudley’s humming quieted and he started to slow down. Dragged low by the Dementor’s presence, Harry knew.

He looked around them. There wasn’t anyone else. He knew he couldn’t do magic outside of school and certainly not in front of muggles, but this was definitely a life or death situation. He didn’t know what the Dementor was going to do to Dudley. So he raised his wand just as the Dementor’s fingers grabbed onto Dudley’s shoulders, yanking him back so it could lean in so close – like it was going to kiss him – and hissed out, as low as he could, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

A silver wisp burst out of his wand and it diffused quickly into the air.

He clenched his wand even tighter in his hand. He drew up a memory – the taste of Mrs. Weasley’s cooking when he was twelve years old and at the Burrow after being rescued from the Dursley’s, the sound of the Weasley kids’ laughter, the feeling of his shoulder bumping with Ron’s – and he hissed again, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

The second time was the lucky go, because, finally, the silver stag jumped out of the tip of his wand and went racing towards the Dementor.

Its antlers slammed into the creature’s side and it chased it off, until the Dementor finally fled and the sky cleared. The summer warmth slammed back down like a slap to the face and Harry lost the ability to breathe, just for a second, as his body suddenly readjusted to the hot air filling up where cold air had been just nestled.

Dudley was curled up and whimpering on the ground.

Still gripping his wand, just in case if the Dementor came back or if another one appeared, Harry walked voer to his cousin to see if his soul was still intact. That was when he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. He instinctively raised his wand as he turned, but then he saw it was just Mrs. Figg, one of the elderly neighbors and his old babysitter. 

He made to quickly hide his wand, when she huffed out a breath and shrieked at him. “Don’t put it away, idiot boy! What if there are more of them around? Oh, I’m going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!”

“Uh,” Harry blinked. “What?”

“He left!” She cried. “Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom. I told him I’d flay him alive if he went, and now look! A Dementor! It’s just lucky I put Mr. Tibbles on the case. But we haven’t got time to stan around. Hurry, now, we’ve got to get you back!”

“I don’t- You’re with the Order?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, not quite. I’m a squib, as Mundungus knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off Dementors? He left you completely without cover when I warned him—”

“Wait! You’ve been a squib this whole time?” He shouted.

“Yes, yes!” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come now, get your cousin gathered. Let’s get you home right away,”

Harry had questions – he always had questions, he realized, when it had anything to do with the Order and, definitely, Albus Dumbledore - but he listened to the old woman.

With great effort, he lifted up his cousin and supported Dudley on the walk back to Privet Drive. Mrs. Figg told him to keep his wand out, just in case the Dementor came back. He started to worry what else she had seen – if she had seen him so unaffected by the Dementor.

Well, if she did, she didn’t say anything.

“Why- why didn’t you tell me you’re a squib?” Harry asked, panting as he desperately tried to drag Dudley with his walk. Not that his cousin was anything help, but he couldn’t really blame the muggle boy very much right now. He was attacked by a Dementor after all. He didn’t even know how the Dementor got to Dudley, or where Dudley’s friends had all run off to. “You **could’ve** told me,”

“Dumbledore’s orders-“

“Of course.” Harry scowled. If he heard one more thing about Dumbledore’s orders, he was going to lose it.

She glanced at him, like she understood. “I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time when I watched you when you were young. It wasn’t easy you know…But the Dursley’s never would’ve let you come if you enjoyed being with me,” She sighed. “Suppose now it’s fine, next time feel free to come to my house for some tea, since you know now and all,”

Then, there was a loud _crack_ – A strong smell of mingled drink and stale tobacco filled the air and there was a squat, unshaven man in a tattered coat materialized right in front of them. Harry guessed immediately it was Mundungus Fletcher.

He blinked, looking from Mrs. Figg to Dudley. “What ‘appened to staying undercover?”

“I’ll give you- Oh! Dementors! You skiving, sneak thief!” She cried at him. “I cannot- I told you not to go!”

Mundungus belched then blanched. “Dementors? Oh- I need to—”

“Tell Dumbledore? You ought to. Can’t believe you. Worthless pile of bat droppings! Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!” She continued on, righteously angry, and more animated than Harry had **ever** seen her before.

“Blimey…I…I need to go! Someone’s gotta tell Dumbledore!” He said.

Mrs. Figg looked about ready to snarl like a dog. Her hair raised, though, like one of her cats, as she raised a bag that she had in her hand – one Harry hadn’t noticed – and started to hit Mundungus with it. “I-“ _Smack_! “said-” _Smack_! “-that!” _Smack_!

Well, even though she was a squib, she wasn’t entirely hopeless.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He shrieked, finally apparating out.

“I hope Dumbledore murders him.” She huffed. “Now come! We must keep going!”

Harry sort of hoped the same. He could blame Fletcher for why he had to lug his overweight cousin desperately back to 4 Privet Drive.

As they got closer, she told him sternly, “Stay inside. I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough,”

“What are you going to do?” He asked.

“I’m going straight home. I’ll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house!” She said.

“Wait-“ Then, she was hobbling off. Harry’s chest clenched with anger as he tried not to just scream. He wished he could understand why anyone in close contact with Dumbledore were always told not to tell him anything.

Harry pushed inside of the Dursley house and waited for chaos to strike.

And, chaos **did** strike.

It was while Uncle Vernon was screaming at him and shouting accusations and questions, when the first letter arrived. An owl flew in from the kitchen window and went right over Vernon’s head to drop a large envelope right at Harry’s feet.

“OWLS! I WLL NOT-“

Harry sneered. “SHUT UP!” He roared back.

Vernon stared at him, face quickly deepening in shade. “That’s it. Get out! GET OUT! I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOUR DISRESPECT OR YOUR FREAKISHNESS ANY LONGER!”

As Harry ripped open the letter and read, his uncle continued shouting.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past four this afternoon in a muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a muggle.  
The severity of this breach in the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._

There was more to the letter, but Harry didn’t bother to read it. He just tore up the letter and threw the parchment onto the ground.

“I’m leaving.” He pulled out his wand.

“WHEN I’VE FINISHED WITH YOU!”

Harry sneered, pointing his wand straight into Vernon’s face. “I’ve gotten myself expelled from Hogwarts. I really don’t care about the rules that’ve kept me from hexing you to Sunday now. So get out of my, shut up, and let me leave in peace or I’ll just curse you until you’re nothing more than a lump of fat the size of your disgusting son’s fist!”

He didn’t know what got into him, but he knew if he stayed any longer he was going to commit a much more serious of a crime than doing underage magic. Another owl had already arrived, but Harry ignored it.

He charged up to the second bedroom. He hastily packed his trunk and ignored his family’s screeching of another, third, owl arriving. He didn’t care what anyone had to say. He was leaving. He was angry and he was fed up with all of this. If he didn’t have to worry about Hogwarts, then fine. He would do what he would have to do to keep his wand. He would rather die than to lose it to the people who had been calling him a liar and smearing his name over the summer. He’d rather Voldemort torture him to death than listen to one more person try to tell him about Dumbledore’s **orders**.

After packing his trunk, Harry opened Hedwig’s cage and told her, “Go to Sirius and Remus for a little while. They’ll take care of you,”

Instead, she leaped up and landed right back down onto his shoulder. She wasn’t going to go, it seemed like. Harry sighed, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful. Somehow, just her offering herself as a steady companion like this made him calm down a little.

Harry exited the room and went down the steps.

Petunia immediately got in front of him as soon as he got the bottom. “Now, see here, I talked to Vernon, and you will be staying-“

He grabbed her shoulder and shoved her away from him. “I’m leaving,” He said. “I’m not going to hear it. If you ever see me again, it’ll be kill you,” That was probably a bit too much, but it fell out of his lips before he could even think about it.

She gasped, horrified. Vernon looked at him as though to tell to go on and try. He was about ready to start screaming, too, it seemed, but it was too late because Harry stormed out of 4 Privet Drive. Ignoring his cousin still whimpering in the living room, too.

“Hedwig, I need you to fly up and try to warn me if you see anyone coming,” He said. “I need to go into hiding, they’re going to be coming for my wand,”

She hooted and jumped off him. He barely walked for thirty seconds before there was a _crack_. Someone appeared in front of him – and Hedwig swung down, immediately to defend him. Her talons shredded into the wizard’s face, as though she was trying to rip out his eyeballs.

Harry pointed his wand right at them. “Hedwig, out of the way!” He ordered.

“Wait! Wait! It’s me! AH! STOP THE OWL!” The wizard cried, trying desperately to defend himself. Two others apparated, wands raised, and Hedwig left him to swing at one of the others.

This time, he could recognize them. It was Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody and Remus Lupin. “Hedwig! Stop! They’re friends!”

Hedwig obeyed, landing back onto his shoulder. She was glaring at them, though, like she hadn’t encountered Remus many times before.

“Good owl,” Moody commented, as though Hedwig hadn’t tried ripping out his enchanted eye. “Get back into the muggle’s house, now-“

“No.” Harry laughed. “I’m never going back there. If you make me, I’ll kill you,”

“Woah!” Remus immediately stepped in front of Moody, as though Harry was putting the experienced older wizard in serious harm with his four years of Hogwarts education. “Okay, listen. We can take you to headquarters,”

“Those aren’t our orders,” The wizard, with his face scratched up and bleeding, said as he tried to touch the marks. “Blimey…That owl’s got some claws, don’t she?” He pointed his wand at his face and started to heal himself, muttering spells carefully.

Hedwig hooted as though to back Harry up when he started to talk again, “You can take me somewhere if it isn’t the Dursley’s or to the Ministry,”

“Harry- did you read our letters?” Remus asked.

“I got the one from the Ministry and that’s it,” Harry said. “I didn’t read any others,”

“How did you miss-“

“None of that!” Moody roared. “I’m tired of this! Just grab him, Remus! We’ll take him back to headquarters. I wanted him there anyways! Diggle, Merlin’s sake, get yourself to someone who can heal you! Letting an owl get the better of you, absolutely pathetic!”

Remus grabbed Harry’s shoulder. “Please put your wand away,”

He considered, for a moment, to not do that at all and instead try to make a run for it, but he agreed. Remus’ hand grounded him some and the anger that had been boiling, ready at the surface, started to sink back down.

“I threatened to kill the Dursley’s,” Harry confessed, then, immediately. “I was really angry,” He didn’t add that he was pretty sure that he meant it.

“Uh. Right. We should be taking him back, then, definitely,” Remus said and turned to Moody. “Let Dumbledore know. I’ve got him,”

Moody grunted and apparated. The other wizard, the one Hedwig had attacked for furiously, popped out, too. As soon as both were gone, Remus’ hold turned into a full hug.

“Merlin!” Remus gasped. “When we got word—Sirius and I were so scared. I’m happy you’re okay!”

Harry was a little surprised at the hug, but he wasn’t opposed. He just hugged the werewolf back, hard, and enjoyed the feeling of warmth he got from it. “Remus- what’s going on?”

“The Dementors- we believe You-Know-Who sent them. Fletcher was supposed to be watching, but…Well, you already know. Dumbledore’s talked the Ministry into not breaking your wand, not yet, but there’s going to be a hearing, on the Twelfth of August,” Remus explained. “We don’t know much, at all. Sirius and I, we’ll try to update you if we hear anything. Just, um…”

“Don’t tell anyone what you told me?” Harry finished.

“Well, mostly,” Remus agreed. “Think Hedwig is okay with apparating?”

“Uh,” Harry said and looked to the side, to his owl. “Hedwig, can you find us at the Order’s headquarters? You’ve delivered letters there before, to everyone,”

Hedwig hooted. She affectionately nipped at Harry’s ear then leaped into flight.

“She’s a good familiar, Harry, loyal. Can’t believe she went after poor Diggle like that…” Remus trailed off, chuckling. “It was a sight!” He squeezed his hand on Harry’s shoulder, then he apparated them both away from Little Whinging.

They landed in the middle of a very messy neighborhood. If the Dursley’s were to see it, Petunia would clutch her pearls while Vernon tried to make a very hasty escape. The homes were grimy looking, with broken windows that glimmered very dully from the streetlamps and peeling paint on their front doors. Everything was surrounded with concrete or brick. The few bits of life in plants he could find, well, the plants looked almost ill.

“Headquarters?” Harry asked.

Remus nodded and pointed to the door labeled number 12. “That’s the place we’ve told you about,” He said. “Well, Sirius. Him and Dumbledore are the Secret Keepers. Only they can say where it is. Sirius hadn’t almost been Secret Keeper, but the wards had pitched the weirdest fit. Um, tell them I just had brought you in and Sirius told you later, if you’re ever asked,”

They went up to the door. Remus, slowly, pushed it open and ushered Harry inside. He closed the door just as he had opened it, careful and so quiet that Harry barely heard the sound of the door shutting at all.

“This is the headquarters,” Remus revealed. “It’s a bit…Well, dirty and dark. Be quiet around here, or you’ll wake up the portrait of Sirius’ mother. All she does is scream and insult us lot. Come, I’ll take you up to Sirius, and you two can talk,”

12 Grimmauld Place wasn’t exactly Harry had imagined when he was told about it, but he supposed the hideout for a secret organization probably couldn’t afford to be too luxurious. There was a strange smell to the air, one which Harry couldn’t decide if it was terrible or not. It did make his nose hurt, though, kind of like if he was walking down the aisle at the market lined with all sorts of cleaning supplies scent-changing goods. They walked to the end of the hall, to the stairway that was there, and Remus led Harry all the way up to the fourth floor.

There was two doors, but Remus ignored the first and took Harry down to the second. On the door was a nameplate that was engraved with Sirius’ name.

“Are all the rooms like this?” Harry asked, curious, reaching up to touch the cool metal.

“We hadn’t told you? 12 Grimmauld Place is Sirius’ childhood home,” Remus said. “He loaned it to the Order. So this—it’s his childhood room.” He knocked on the door, three times rapidly, then waited, then knocked thrice more.

The door swung open and Sirius leaped out, wrapping his arms around Harry. “Aha!” He laughed. “Get in inside, before someone tries hunting you down to stick you with the kids,”

He pulled Harry inside of his room and Remus followed close behind.

Sirius’ room looked like it belonged to a teenager. The room was incredibly large, but also very messy. The walls were covered, almost completely, with pictures. Over half of them weren’t even moving, of muggle motorcycles and muggle girls in bikinis. There was, also, Gryffindor banners and everything was very glaringly red and gold – though it was also dark, because it was obviously abandoned for a long time.

“This is yours?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius said. “I haven’t been in here for a long time. I ran away when I was a teenager, just a bit older than you are now. But none of that! I’ve got some news! So sit down!”

Harry sat down on Sirius’ bed, near the beautifully carved headboard, while Sirius and Remus sat opposite of him.

“Dumbledore’s trying to get to the bottom of who, exactly, sent the Dementor after you, though he already knows it was the Dark Lord,” Sirius explained. “He’s just trying to figure out how. No one’s ever managed to learn how he’d gotten control of them in the first place, but he thinks they need to figure it out this time around or it’s going to spell out a lot of trouble,”

“Dementors are a hard force. Not everyone can cast a Patronus Charm,” Remus tacked on.

Sirius nodded. “They had a meeting. You definitely aren’t supposed to be here, but I knew you weren’t going to stick around for long. No one ever listens to me, think I don’t know you! Ha!”

“What about the Ministry? Anything?” Harry asked. “What have they said?”

“Just about your trial. Fudge is, apparently, kicking up a lot that a Dementor hadn’t attacked you,” Sirius said. “Awful man. You’d think someone so dumb and stubborn wouldn’t make it to Minister of Magic!”

“There is something we haven’t been able to tell you, that we should tell you now,” Remus said. “It might have something to do with the Dementor attack. You-Know-Who’s definitely trying to make sure everyone’s turned against you, especially the Ministry,”

“We couldn’t put it in a letter, just in time,” Sirius added. “

“Dumbledore came to us about breaking into the Ministry,” Remus said. “There’s something going on that he’s finally pulling us into, something the Dark Lord didn’t have last time. We don’t know much, he won’t tell us yet. We’re supposed to have a meeting, tonight, to start discussing it, exactly, so we can keep an eye out,”

“We have a feeling, though,” Sirius added. “Something that only a few people knew about in the last war. It’s…hard to explain, Remus and I, we don’t know all of the details ourselves,”

“Well, what is it?” Harry pushed.

“It’s- a prophecy. Something, your parents knew it, it’s why they went into hiding,” Sirius said. “It picked you out, as a potential defeater of You-Know-Who,”

“We never got a lot of information on it,” Remus admitted. “We don’t- we don’t know anything beyond just what your parents told us. And Dumbledore certainly didn’t trust either of us very much. We don’t think they wouldn’t just not told us,”

Harry looked down at his hands. He smoothed them over his thighs. “Let me guess, the reason why my parents never told you anything was on Dumbledore’s orders?”

“I-“

“Yes,” His godfather looked at him, frowning. “Dumbledore never really trusted Remus and me. I’m from a notoriously Dark family, Remus is a werewolf…”

“And I’m a demon.” Harry laughed. “Merlin. I see why you don’t want anyone to know,”

“We can trust Dumbledore, even if he doesn’t trust us,” Remus assured. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t- we won’t let anything happen to you, Harry, not unless we’re dead. We trust Dumbledore and we trust the Order. We just can’t always expect them to trust us back,”

“It’s going to be hard, but you need to keep everything we’ve told you from your friends,” Sirius said. “At least for now, until- until you know for sure they wouldn’t bring anything we’ve told you, or anything about you being a demon, to the others,”

“I know. I’ve already promised,” Harry said. His godfather and the werewolf both leaned forward, wrapping their arms around him in a loose hug.

“We love you, Harry,” Sirius said. “Just as Remus said, we won’t let anything happen to you,”

Harry believed Sirius. He knew that even if everyone – if the entire world – turned against him, he would always have them.

It made him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want more frequent updates on how this is going or how maybe future stories might be going, check out my [twitter](https://twitter.com/rebinghostface/)
> 
> Anyways!! This ended up being a lot longer of a chapter than I originally meant. Also, that updating schedule? Yeah. I've given up on it because I can't ever hold myself to it when I finish something early lmfao. I also hope I didn't miss anything while editing because...I had like three different scenarios I kept bouncing between. Like, a lot was going on there when I was trying to decide what to do then how to do it. 
> 
> Feel free to validate me and my writing in the comments ✨but as always, thank you for reading and love y'all!


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